


A Man of His Era

by VenatorNoctis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hedonism, Masturbation, Other, Sex Toys, self-indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 00:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14390637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenatorNoctis/pseuds/VenatorNoctis
Summary: Ardyn's job is stressful. Fortunately, he's found modern technology makes for excellent stress relief.





	A Man of His Era

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweet_and_sour_candy_77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_and_sour_candy_77/gifts).



> Candy requested Ardyn enjoying himself, with no angst involved in him getting off, and I am always up for showing trash jesus a good time.

It has been a tiresomely long day, the most recent in a sequence of same that stretches on further than any man should have to contemplate. As he unlocks his front door, Ardyn resolves to spend the rest of the evening doing absolutely nothing unless it's as self-indulgent and hedonistic as possible. He leaves his hat on the statue standing in the front entry of his townhouse; he leaves his coat over the back of the Morios XIII sofa in the living room. 

He makes his way up the stairs and leaves his clothes in a heap on the floor of his bedroom. He's only creating an annoyance for his future self, since there are no servants in the house to clean up after him—they're rarely worth the effort of sustaining a persona—but he can't bring himself to care much. Self-indulgence only: no fretting over how many things need to be managed for his plan to work, no irritation at short-sighted researchers and their delusions of grandeur, and absolutely no laundry.

For self-indulgence, Ardyn has found, one can rarely go wrong starting with a good hot shower. Modern plumbing is still one of his favorite things about having lived this long; while humans had begun trying to make washing oneself more pleasant even before his time, they've really made some excellent progress in the last century or so. He turns the water on, hot enough to steam up the room and hard enough to spatter loudly against the tile, and steps into the spray. 

Oh, that's delightful. The water hammers against his shoulders and sluices down his body as if it could carry his stress with it down the drain at his feet. Ardyn tips his head back to wet his hair. They have such an excessive number of scented soaps and balms and unguents one can purchase for a pittance now, and Ardyn's bathroom is cluttered with half-full pots and bottles whose descriptions sounded enticing. Why, in the old days this easy luxury would have made a king blush.

He washes his hair with a frothy cake of something that smells like citrus and roses, and scrubs himself down with an unnaturally-colored gel that promises to perfume him like clove and sandalwood. He even has one of those little puffs of netting that's supposed to be more invigorating than the pedestrian, last-century alternative of using a cloth. The room smells like a disaster in a perfumier's by the time he's satisfied enough to shut off the water. 

When he gets out, he doesn't bother with a towel; with the amount of plasmodium in his system he always runs hot, and the water will evaporate soon enough. He pads back into his bedroom to move on to the second part of his evening's indulgences. Plumbing isn't the only thing people have improved on over the last few centuries.

The drawer in his bedside table houses another collection of indulgent luxuries, in a variety of fanciful shapes and technologically sophisticated materials. The classicists of contemporary academies sometimes try to downplay or explain away the discovery of carved phalli at ancient sites, but Ardyn doesn't know who they think they're fooling. People have always looked for ways to make their own lives more convenient, and people have always liked to fuck.

This isn't a night for pushing his limits, so he leaves the formidable silicone beasts where they are. Relaxation and luxury are the goal here. He picks out a deceptively simple curved wand made from plain polished steel, a sturdy little vibrating bullet, and a bottle of silky, long-lasting lubricant. (Another thing the modern era has improved on drastically: the stuff is slick and odorless and doesn't stain or erode _any_ of his eclectic collection.) 

He takes his chosen apparatus to bed, stretching out across the absurdly smooth sheets and letting himself enjoy how they feel against his skin. Every second of pleasure he can wring out of his existence is another curse thrown back at the Six and their pet monarchs. —But dwelling on that fact won't earn him any more of those precious moments. Enough of that. 

Ardyn opens the lube and squeezes some out on his fingertips, then smears it thoroughly over the bulbous head of the wand. He spreads his legs, lifting his knees to expose himself. The steel is chilly when he presses it against his asshole, but he doesn't mind. He pushes, hips lifting to meet the intrusion, and the toy slides in easily. 

Steel is hard and heavy and unyielding, making his body accommodate it with no compromise; that's one of its virtues, the way it demands attention, the way the weight gives it presence even when it isn't moving. Ardyn pushes it in deeper, until the perfectly engineered curve brings the rounded head into contact with his prostate. The sensation sets his teeth on edge, makes his breath come a little faster: something that's almost pleasure but not quite, too much too soon to really feel comfortable, and his cock twitches against his belly. 

He holds it right where it is, unmoving, and reaches with his other hand for the vibrator. Wonderful inventions, these. It's endlessly charming the way that humans turn every new advancement into a means for satisfying old appetites. He presses it against the tender skin just behind his balls and switches it on at its lowest setting. Sensation hums through him, dilute and indirect enough to wake his nerves slowly, to make him start to want more. His cock stirs, filling out as the vibrations tease him to arousal.

There, that's what he needs. The steel wand has warmed to his flesh by now, and when he starts to rock it back and forth the pressure is just what he wants. Sensation arcs up from there through the base of his cock, the wand and the vibrator each amplifying the intensity of the other. His cock aches for attention and he ignores it; that would make this go much too quickly. He has all night, after all.

He works the toys in tandem, sometimes holding the wand still for a moment, sometimes lifting the vibrator away briefly: letting them work him up slowly, pleasure increasing at a measured, careful pace. His other concerns fall away just as gradually, until nothing matters but the insistent hum against his skin and the hard sliding heat inside him, his cock drooling on his stomach. It feels like he's riding right at the edge of climax for ages, knowing that one good hard stroke to his cock would finish him immediately and refusing to give in.

When his body finally surrenders to the indirect assault, climax comes not like lightning but like the rain that follows it: sweeping, sustained, washing through his system and taking every stray scrap of tension with it. His cock pulses untouched, spurting across his belly, aching with relief. He keeps up the stimulation until he can't stand it another second, then pulls the vibrator away and lets himself fall back against the sheets.

His heartbeat pounds in his ears. His breath comes loud in the room's silence. His limbs feel boneless, utterly relaxed, unwilling to do any further labor this evening. He scrapes together the energy to pull the wand free and drop it on the bed, but doesn't bother with any further endeavors just yet. He'll go clean up soon. Once his legs cooperate.

Ardyn takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh of contentment. Dealing with people is such trouble, such a large percentage of the time. But they do make such lovely toys.


End file.
